San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1887-05-16
The Three Strangers.
BY THOMAS II RDY.

his legs, and made his presence felt in
various ways.
swell, well, as | say" he resumed,
81 am going so Casterbridge, and to
Z Casterbridge | must 60. | should have
/ been almost there by this time; but the
rain drove me into ye, and I'm not sor-
ny for it."
said the shepherd.
Not as yet, though l shortly mean
! to move there"
"GOing TO set up in trade, perhaps2"
"No, no." said the shepherds wife.
at is easy to see that the gentleman is
rich and don't want to work at any
thing"
The cinder-gray stranger paused, as
| il to consider whether he would accept
the definition of himself. lie presently
rejected it by answering: Rich is not
quite the word for me, dame. do work,
and must work. And even, if | only
get to Casterbridge By midnight must
begin work there at 8 tomorrow morn
ing. Yes, hot or wet, blow or snow,
famine or sword, my day work to-mor-
row must be DONE"
Poor man! Then, in spite o. SEEM
ing, you be worse off than WEI" replied
the shepherds wife.
""Tis the nature of my trade, men
and maidens. IT'S the nature Of my
trade more than my poverty. But real
ly and truly must be up and off, or l
shan't get lodging in the town" How
ever, the speaker did not move, and di-
rectly added. There's time for one
more draught Of friendship before go;
and I'd perform it at once if the mug
was not dry"
Here's a mug o. small" said Mrs.
Fennel. ''SmalI we call it, though to
be sure tits only the first wash o. the
combs"
NO" said the stranger disdainfully.
~ won't spoil your first kindness by
partaking o. your second"
Certainly not" broke in Fennel.
1--WE don't increase and multiply every
day, and I'll fill the mug again" He
went away to the dark place under the
stairs where the barrel stood. The
shepherdess followed him.
why should you do thisp' she said
responsibility, as soon as they were
alone. Hes emptied it once, though
it held enough for ten people; and now
he's not contented WI the small, but
must needs call for more o. the strongl
And stranger unbeknown to any Of
us. For my part don't like the look
o. the man at all"
But he's in the house, my honey;
and It's wet night, and christening.
Daze it, what's cup Of mead more or
less2 Theren be plenty more next bee
burning"
Very well-this time, then, >" she an
swered, looking wistfully at the barrel.
but what is the mans calling, and
where is he one of, that he should come
in and join us like this?"
II don't know. I'll ask him again."
The catastrophe of having the mug
drained dry at one pull by the stranger
in cinder-gray was effectually guarded
against this time by Mrs. Femel. She
pOurd out his allowance in a small cup,
keeping the large one at discreet dis
lance from him. When he had tossed
off his portion the shepherd renewed
his inquiry about the strangers occupa-
ton.
The latter did not Immediately reply,
and the man in the chimney-corner,
with sudden demonstrativeness, said:
Anybody may know my trade-I'm
wheelright."
"a very good trade for these parts"
said the shepherd.
And anybody may know mine-if
they've the sense to find it out" said
the stranger in cinder-gray.
you maygenerally tell what man
is by his claws" observed the hedge
carpenter, looking at his hands. MY
fingers be as full of thorns as an old
pincushion is of pins"
The hands of the man in the chimney
corner instinctively sought the shade,
and he gaZed into the fire as he resum-
Cd sNtn hn = No fob 70
up the hedge-carpenter'S remark, and
added smartly: "True; but the oddity
of my trade is that, instead of setting a
mark upon me, it sets mark upon my
customers"
No observation being offered by any
body in elucidation of this enigma, the
shepherds wife once more called for a
song. The same obstacles presented
themselves as at the former time-one
had no voice, another had forgotten the
first verse. The stranger at the table,
whose soul had now risen to a good
working temperature, relieved the diff
culty-he would sing himself Thrust
ing one thumb into the arm-hole of his
waistcoat, he waved the other hand in
the air, and, with and extempOrizing
gaze at the shining sheep-crooks above
the mantelpiece, began:
Oh, my tRade it is the rarest ono,
Simple shepherds all
My trade is a sight to see;
For my customers tie, and take them up
on high,
And watt 'em to far countree.
The room was quiet when he had
finished the verse-with one exception,
that of the man in the chimney corner,
who, at the singers word. "'Chorusl"
Joined him in deep bass voice Of mu-
steal relish
And watt them to far countree.
Oliver Giles, John Pitcher, the dairy
man, the parish clerk, the engaged man
of fifty, the row of young women
against the wall, seemed lost in thought
not Of the gayest kind. The shepherd
looked meditatively on the ground, the
shepherdesS gaZed keenly at the singer,
and with some suspicion; she was doubt
ing whether this stranger was merely
singing an old song from recollection,
or was composing one there and then
for the occasion. All were as perplex-
ed at the Obscure revelation as the
guests at Belshazzar's feast, except the
man in the chimney-sorner, who quiet
ly said. Second verse, stranger" and
smoked on.
The singer thorOughly-moistened him
self from his lips inward, and went on
with the next stanza as requested:
Ny tools are not common ones,
Simple shepherds all,
My tools are no sight to see;
little hempen string, and post where
Are implements enough for me.
Shepherd Fennel glanced round.
There was no longer any doubt that the